


Dark of the Night

by dragons_and_angels



Series: MASH Fics [6]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Murder, Serial Killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 18:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragons_and_angels/pseuds/dragons_and_angels
Summary: Someone didn't think the Korean War was bad enough.





	1. Hawkeye

_Dear Dad,_

_When it rains, it pours and when it's dry, it's a desert. It's a fact of life here at the 4077 that we either have so many wounded we don't have enough tables to put them on, or we have nothing more serious than a couple of hernias and a broken nose after a fight over a nurse between two of our staff. Trapper and I have spent the first half of the day moving Frank's stuff around, just enough that he would notice something is different but not enough that he's got any conclusive proof, but now we're curled up on our cots. Trap is writing a letter to his girls and you, my dear father, are my girl._

Hawkeye looked up as Trapper's cot creaked. He was putting more wood on the fire to try and get some warmth into the tent before settling back down. It wasn't properly cold yet, the country liked to save that for night time, but it was enough that they were each wearing three layers.

"You know, at some point we're going to have to brave the Mess tent," Hawkeye said, making no attempt to move himself. Writing to his dad was a great way to destress, but there was always that homesick feeling every time he thought about his dad opening the letter at the worn kitchen table with gentle sunshine coming through the window. Sometimes he missed his home so much it was a physical pain.

"At some point." Trapper yawned and scribbled something else down on the paper. "Let me finish this letter first. Louise said Kathy had thrown a baseball at school at one of the boys that was teasing her friend."

"And what are you saying to her? How the boy was probably pulling her friend's pigtails?" Hawkeye put his own letter down. Trapper didn't talk too much about his family back in the States, likely because he would be struck by the same pain as Hawkeye himself, and so any mention was welcomed, not with so much enthusiasm Trapper got scared off, but enough that he knew Hawkeye was always here to talk about them.

Trapper gave him a look. "She threw a baseball across the playground and managed to hit exactly who she was aiming at. I'm telling her to keep practicing and try and get Louise to sign her up for a baseball team. If the boy stays away from Kathy, the better."

Hawkeye barked out a surprised laugh but it wasn't at Trapper, more at himself. Trapper managed to surprise him like this sometimes, when Hawkeye was expecting one answer, he would give a completely different one. He wouldn't have thought his friend would be encouraging his eldest daughter to try out for the baseball team but here he was. "Why don't you order her a baseball glove? That way she and Becky can practice." And there was the Trapper John smile he loved to see.

"Great idea. Though I may have to warn Louise, it seems she isn't impressed by Kathy injuring this boy."

"Well, if you tease a girl, you have to be prepared for them to retaliate." Hawkeye shrugged. He had done his fair teasing of girls at school but when they had given as good as he got, he had learned to accept it with a laugh and back off. Getting mad at rejection just meant you would end up bitter and alone.

"Exactly," Trapper said. He wrote something else down and then scribbled something which Hawkeye recognised as his signature, even from across the room.

The comfortable silence was broken by a scream that seemed to echo around the tent, causing Hawkeye to jump violently and Trapper to stand up. Both of them looked at each other and then they were heading out of the Swamp, pulling on their outer coats as they did so. The wind was icy, blowing straight through their coats, and everyone else was coming out of their tents as they tried to pinpoint where the scream came from.

"Who screamed?" Trapper asked Father Mulcahy, only to receive a shake of his head. No one seemed to know what was going on, at least until one of the nurses came out from behind the supply hut, closely followed by the orderly. Both of them were new, though Hawkeye was sure the nurse's name was Georgia Baker. She was sobbing, her cheeks blotchy and red as she stumbled and struggled to catch her breath. The orderly, also new though Hawkeye hadn't managed to memorise his name yet, looked pale and shaken. He kept glancing back at the supply hut and seemed about as unable to speak as she did.

"What happened?" Hawkeye approached the nurse, only for her to throw herself into his arms. He put his arms around her and looked over her head at Trapper, who was glancing between the nurse and the orderly with a furrow in his brow. Hawkeye could almost see his mind turning. Unlikely to be a situation of force, as both Baker and the orderly had come out from behind the hut.

"There's a dead body there," the orderly finally said. He gestured back at the hut but didn't look around. Hawkeye exchanged a glance at Trapper before he deposited Baker into the good Father's arms and headed straight to where the orderly had gestured without a second thought. A dead body wasn't that rare in this camp, but to stumble across one dumped behind the supply tent definitely wasn't the usual.

Hawkeye and Trapper reached the spot at the same time and then both of them froze. They had come here to see if there was anything that could be done but right now, it was obvious that she was dead and had been for a while. Underneath the blood and the wounds, Hawkeye could detect a familiar jawline but it was hard to tell. One of the nurses, short, dark hair, and wearing an army uniform. The khaki was stained with blood, some dried brown and other patches still bright red. He could well understand why the orderly had looked the way he did, and why Nurse Baker had been in tears. It was like the nurse had been attacked by a knife and her attacker had just tried to slice every place she could. It was worse than a lot of the kids who turned up on their table - hunks of flesh were missing and there were a few flies buzzing around the wound, despite it being too cold for much activity.

"Hey, uh, Klinger." Trapper sounded as shaken as Hawkeye felt right now. "Go and get Henry. And the MPs." The sound of footsteps moving away shook Hawkeye out of his stupor and he took a step forward. "Hawk, what are you doing?"

"Checking her pulse." Hawkeye knew he wouldn't find anything and even if he did, she would be dead before they could get her anywhere near the table, but he had to try. He pressed his fingers to the ruined mess of her neck and found her already stone cold. He pulled back as soon as he could and took a step back, wiping his hand off his trousers. Trapper's warmth was comforting and though Hawkeye couldn't tear his eyes away from the woman, he made sure their arms were touching so he was sure he wasn't alone.

Henry and the MPs turned up at the same time. Hawkeye spun around as soon as he heard Radar's voice talking to Henry on the way round the back of the supply tent. He could sense Trapper moving to block the view of the nurse and Hawkeye had his hands out. "Radar, I don't think you should see this." Henry, Radar and Klinger all halted at Hawkeye's outstretched hands. The MPs gave Hawkeye a look before going around them, something he didn't try to stop.

"What? Why not?" Radar sounded confused but nothing else. He didn't think Klinger had come into details but wariness was starting to bloom across Henry's face.

"Because that isn't a sight for anyone," Hawkeye replied honestly. "Henry has to see it otherwise I would be stopping him too. I wish I hadn't seen it but I did and now I'm telling you not to look."

"He's right, Radar," Klinger said, his voice quiet even through the wind. He was wearing a skirt and heels today, nothing colourful which Hawkeye was a little sad about. It would be nice to think about something else, to see something else with colour apart from the nurse's blood staining the ground. "If I don't have to see it again I'm going to wait round here."

"Pierce, what is going on?" Hawkeye jerked his head back at Trapper and then moved forward to join Radar and Klinger. Radar looked a little angry but he didn't try to move around Hawkeye, probably sensing this wasn't a short joke or a kid joke. Despite everything he saw in the war, Radar was still a little naive and Hawkeye felt protective of him. Like a kid brother who was picked on at school and you felt a little defensive of him afterwards.

"What's happening, Sir?" Radar asked Hawkeye, dropping his voice as if it was something secret.

"One of the nurses, at least I think it was one of the nurses, was killed and her body's back there." Hawkeye didn't glance back even as he heard Henry let out an exclamation. The MPs were talking in quiet tones with each other and Hawkeye just wanted to go back to fifteen minutes ago when he and Trapper were talking about Kathy's ball arm.

"Oh no." Radar looked dismayed and he glanced at the back of the supply tent. Hawkeye looked at Klinger and saw the same dreadful knowledge in his eyes, which thankfully didn't exist in Radar's. In war, the wounded looked awful and Hawkeye hated every moment of it, but this was done up close. Someone hacked at the woman long after her wounds were enough to kill her and he wondered who it could have been. He thought he had seen the worse humanity could do to each other but that turned his stomach.

Trapper came towards them, leaving Henry with the MPs. He looked like Hawkeye felt and when he reached them, he pressed his arm against Hawkeye just like he had done to Trapper when they were staring at the poor woman on the ground.

"Sir?" Radar asked and Trapper's lips quirked like he wanted to smile but couldn't muster up the energy.

"The MPs want everyone back to their tents and to stay there unless we get wounded coming in. Can you make sure everyone knows Radar?" The three of them watch Radar hurry off, eager to be doing something, but not before sending a glance back at Henry Blake.

"What do you say, Klinger?" Hawkeye asked when he looked at the orderly. "Want to come back to our tent and get very, very drunk?"

"I couldn't think of anything I want to do more," Klinger said and they headed back to the Swamp. None of them spoke through the first drink but after Trapper had poured out a second one for himself and Hawkeye (Klinger was nursing his first), he sat down on the chair next to Hawkeye's cot and started to talk.

"Her name was Winifred Charles. She was one of the newer nurses, along with Georgia, Rachel and Sarah with an h."

Hawkeye looked down at his drink. The tables were turned; he didn't really want to talk about this and Trapper did. But Trapper was his friend and if he needed to talk about it to deal with it, then so be it. "The one who turned you down flat?" He smiled as he remembered Trapper's face. He and Trapper had both been out of dates that night and, to their everlasting disgust, Frank had one with Hot Lips. The night where they had just talked and laughed and been together had been one of Hawkeye's favourites of the whole war.

Trapper laughed a little. "Yeah. She didn't even couch around the subject, just told me there was no chance in Hell. She said she had a fiancé..." His voice trailed off as they realised the truth. Winifred's fiancé was going to get a letter saying she had been killed. They weren't going to get married and it wasn't even the war to blame.

"She gave me tips on how to wear my new shawl," Klinger said from where he was sitting slouched on the chair. "I got this red and orange one that went great with my colouring. She saw me wearing it and gave me tips about how to secure it so I could wear it in this wind without it blowing away."

Hawkeye got himself up and went round to topping up everyone's drinks. "To Winifred," he said, raising his glass. Trapper and Klinger echoed him and they clinked glasses before throwing back the alcohol. It burned down Hawkeye's throat and it told himself that it was just the burn making his eyes water rather than anything else. Trapper nudged him with his elbow and then didn't remove the warm weight, giving something for Hawkeye to lean against.

A blast of cold swept in and Henry came in, looking more haggard than Hawkeye had ever seen in, closely followed by one of the MPs, with a face like stone. Trapper reached back and offered Henry a glass but he shook his head and then nodded at the MP. Afterward then.

"I need to ask you what happened when you found the body," the MP said.

"Nothing really." Trapper was the one to speak up, again surprising Hawkeye but feeling grateful for it nonetheless. "We were in the tent, we heard a scream and came out. Georgia and the orderly," he looked at Klinger who supplied the name, "James Carmichael, came out from behind the supply hut looking half scared to death. Georgia was crying but when Carmichael said there was a dead body behind the hut, Hawk dropped her off with the Father and we went to see for ourselves."

"I checked her pulse," Hawkeye said when Trapper's voice dried up. He didn't look at the MP or Henry, just at his drink. "But it was obvious that we couldn't do anything for her."

"They asked me to go and get you guys," Klinger said.

"That was it." Trapper twisted in his chair so he was leaning against the side of Hawkeye's cot and Hawkeye shifted so he could feel his friend's warmth. Comforting and protection against the draft that had come into the tent with the opening of the door.

The MP nodded but didn't say anything else and Henry was the one left to say something. "Thanks guys. We'll have a staff meeting a little earlier this month and I'll do a full camp debrief today as well when the MPs here have finished questioning everyone."

"Her name was Winifred Charles," the MP said. He had grey eyes that were switching between the three of them with a considering look. "How well did any of you know her?"

"Not well. She was one of the newer nurses. We knew she had a fiancé and she had given Klinger here some fashion advice." Hawkeye gestured with his glass and the MP looked down at Klinger in his skirt. The stone-faced expression broke as the man looked confused but it went back to normal when he looked up again.

"Oh Hell," Henry said as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "That means I have to write the letter to her fiancé as well as her parents." Hawkeye never really envied Henry his job but now he was pretty sure he wouldn't take the chance to do it even if the army said he would triple his salary and see about getting him home before the war ended.

"Good luck, Henry," Trapper said with heavy sincerity.

"Come for a drink with us when you're done," Hawkeye said as the MP and Henry left the tent. Klinger threw back the rest of his drink and then stood up.

"I'm going to see if the good Father is available," he announced before handing his glass back to Hawkeye. "See ya, fellas." A mock salute and then Klinger was out the door. Trapper finished the last of his drink and then put the glass back on the Still.

"My shift starts in two hours," he said at Hawkeye's look. He didn't move back to his own cot but stayed slumped against Hawkeye's. "I didn't even think this day could get any worse but now I can't even get properly drunk." Hawkeye patted his head of curls like a reward for a dog who had done a good job. Trapper sighed and leaned against his hand, making Hawkeye smile. He scratched his fingers through Trapper's hair, feeling the curls cling to his fingers. Trapper hummed, a sigh of contentment and Hawkeye curled on his side, bringing his knees up so it was like he fit around Trapper's head and shoulders where they rested on the bunk.

Everytime Hawkeye closed his eyes, he could see the mutilated body of Winifred and feel her tacky blood beneath his fingers. When he opened his eyes again, he smoothed his hand over Trapper's head, letting the soft hair take away the sensation of cold skin. They might have fallen asleep, or just lay there finding contentment in each other's company, when the Swamp door banged open with a loud enough smack that both of them jumped and sat upright.

"Frank, what the Hell was that for?" Trapper asked. He was wincing and pulling at his back and Hawkeye wanted to put a hand on him, find out where he was hurting, but Frank was busy sucking all the good things out of the atmosphere and just leaving tension behind.

"There's a staff meeting and since you two are officers, you're required to attend," Frank said in his usual superior tone. He did an about face and then marched out of the tent, practically spewing patriotism.

"This day just gets better and better," Hawkeye said. He yawned and stretched before getting off his cot but, strangely enough, he felt better. He and Trapper didn't say anything else but stuck close to each other as they headed over to Henry's office. Their CO was there, with a nervous looking Radar, a Margaret Houlihan who looked like she couldn't decide whether to burst into tears or tear everyone around her to pieces and Frank Burns, who kept glancing at Margaret nervously.

"We're here," Trapper said without much fanfare and the two of them sat down in neighbouring chairs. Hawkeye made sure to stretch out his legs in such a way that his right leg brushed against Trapper's knees, keeping the contact that had helped so far.

"Right." Henry looked like he hadn't slept in three days after coming off a forty-eight hour drinking binge. Hawkeye felt a sense of pity for Henry and hoped he would get sent home soon. As much as he said that he liked doctoring over here, he needed to go back home. He wasn't meant to be at the front, none of them were, but at least they didn't have the stress of command. "First things first, Winifred Charles. Major?"

Margaret swallowed and sat up a little straighter. "I've got the details for her parents and her fiancé. I'll draft a letter to each of them and get you to look them over, Colonel. We'll both sign them and make sure they're included in the death notice. Her body will be shipped back to the States after we've made sure the mail is on its way. The nurses want to organise a memorial service for her here in the camp."

"How are they doing?" Henry asked, compassion and pity creasing his brow.

"About as well as to be expected. Georgia Baker is in floods of tears. She was one of the two who found Winifred and she and Winifred knew each other from before. I've taken her off the rota for the next three days but she said she wants to stay here."

"It just gets better and better," Hawkeye muttered as he rubbed his forehead. What he wouldn't give to go back to this morning.

"When's Winifred's memorial service going to be?" Trapper asked and Margaret glanced at him, for once without the edge of disgust and frustration.

"Tomorrow afternoon. In the mess tent. I've talked to Father Mulcahy and he's organising something now. He's also been talking to Baker and Carmichael and wants to make it clear to anyone that he is there if anyone wants to talk." For once, Margaret's love of discipline and order were being a help to the camp rather than a hindrance. Hawkeye felt one knot of tension relax. There was something about having someone organise the arrangements that took a weight off. He still remembered his dad struggling to get his mom's funeral sorted, not being able to grieve and organise at the same time.

"Thank you, Major," Henry said with a grateful smile. "The MPs are going to conduct an investigation into Winifred's death and they're using the POW tent to do so. We're to give them their full cooperation and I'll let the rest of the camp know. Tonight we'll have a debrief in the mess tent, providing no wounded come in. To continue normal duties as per, er, normal. Anything to add, Majors?"

There was a knock on the door but the MPs didn't wait for an answer before they came in. They were looking at Trapper in a way Hawkeye definitely didn't like. "Captain McIntyre?"

Trapper sat up. "That's me."

The stone-faced MP from earlier spoke. "We'd like you to come with us."


	2. Margaret

There was a moment of silence in the room broken by Pierce sitting upright and glaring at the MPs. "What the hell for?" He resembled a dog Margaret had one knew. A mongrel of some kind, small and scrappy but when he got in his head to protect something, he would fight to the death to do so. 

"We would like to question him," Major Hopkins, the newer MP spoke up. Margaret had chatted to the MPs who were stationed near the camp and could identify them all by name but she had never had the prospect of them staying in their camp before. 

Pierce looked like he was about to launch a full-scale offensive but immediately calmed when McIntyre put his hand on his arm. Margaret sometimes envied the two of them their friendship, the nearest she had was Frank Burns and she knew that was more of a relationship born from necessity than anything else. She admired Frank's dedication to his country and the army and she appreciated him being there when she needed someone, but he wasn't really someone she could count on. 

"It's fine, Hawkeye," McIntyre said. "They just want to ask me a few questions." 

"Trap," Pierce said, looking like someone had killed his favourite dog in front of him. 

"I didn't do it so I'll be fine." McIntyre was worried, even the Colonel could probably tell that but he was hiding as well as he could as he reassured Pierce. "Take my shift in post-op, okay?" He squeezed Pierce's arm and then stood up, following the MPs out of the office. 

"Well," Frank said with pointed heaviness. "I would never have suspected McIntyre." 

Pierce turned on him, a look of absolute fury on his face and Margaret braced to throw herself in front of Frank if Pierce did try to punch him again. He likely deserved it this time but this was the army, they couldn't go around punching people whenever they felt someone deserved it. 

"Knock it off, Frank," the Colonel said wearily. 

Frank, not used to obeying the Colonel, opened his mouth and Margaret decided to step in before this all devolved. 

"Frank, stop talking before Pierce gives you a black eye." And she wouldn't be standing behind him this time, not if he kept on insulting McIntyre. This was a more stressful situation than usual and Frank should know better than to exacerbate it by driving Pierce to rage. 

"Margaret." Frank sounded horrified but she couldn't be bothered to deal with his hurt feelings right now. She had a hard time getting rid of the sound of Georgia Baker's sobs in her ears, let alone the through examination of Winifred's body that she and the Colonel had had to do. 

"Frank, McIntyre might be a lice-ridden degenerate who wouldn't know a proper salute if it danced in front of him wearing one of Klinger's dresses but he's not a killer. Especially one who does that to someone." Margaret swallowed down the bile as she once again flashed to the sight of Winifred lying naked on the table. The stab wounds had counted forty-five in total but it was the chunks of flesh that had fallen off the body through the vicious nature of the attack that had Margaret heaving. Winifred had tried to defend herself but her attacker had simply kept on going until her arms, face and chest were a mess of wounds. She caught sight of the same expression on Pierce and Blake's faces while Frank and Radar looked clueless. It was obvious who here, in this room, had seen Winifred after she died. 

Pierce nodded at Margaret's words and sat back, but not the relaxed pose of before when he and McIntyre had been close enough to be called 'joined at the hip'. Now his arms were folded, his expression was black as thunder and he looked like he was poised to kick Frank Burns in the leg if he made one more comment. 

"They've got to cover all their bases," Henry said soothingly. "Not that I think McIntyre did it!" He added under Pierce's glare. "I'm sure they'll be questioning a lot of people." 

"Colonel, please stop before your foot goes even further into your mouth," Margaret said as it looked like Pierce wasn't going to say anything to alleviate the tension like he normally did. "Tonight is the full camp debrief, tomorrow afternoon is the memorial service and Pierce, you're taking McIntyre's shift in post-op until the MPs are finished with their business. Does anyone have anything to add?" All four men stared at her like they had never seen her before and Margaret felt her headache get worse. 

"I think you've covered everything, Major," Henry said after an awkward cough. "Radar?" 

"Shift schedules to be changed, Sir, along with the address of Winifred's fiancé and parents for you, Ma'am. Sir." Radar stumbled a little at the address but at least he got the correct form in there somewhere. Margaret took the paper with a heavy heart and tried not to think too much about what she was going to have to do. Winifred had only been here for two weeks but she had been a likable, if a little naive, kind of girl. Not the best nurse but she was a hard worker and willing to learn, which Margaret would take over a brilliant, lazy nurse any day of the week. One thing she did know was that she had a dog back home that she had almost as many photos of as her fiancé, and she was an only child. 

The meeting broke up then in a far more haphazard fashion than Margaret would have wished for but she didn't have the energy to fight about that. Not when she already composing what she was going to say about Winifred to her parents and to her fiance. Frank was talking about something, about how McIntyre was a reprobate who should have been arrested a long time ago and if he wasn't careful, she was going to throw him in Pierce's path and ignore whatever happened next. 

"Look, Frank, I have a lot to do and a headache." She raised his eyebrow and he looked like someone had slapped with a wet fish. "I'm going back to my tent, alone." And she proceeded to do just that, except there was someone waiting for inside her tent. 

"Major, can I talk to you?" Georgia Baker was sitting in her tent, looking pale and drained. Margaret felt a swell of pity well up in her chest and then a flash of annoyance. She really didn't like feeling pity towards her nurses, it meant she couldn't lead them effectively. 

"Of course, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" Margaret folded the piece of paper with the addresses on and put it in her pocket. She wasn't good at the comforting thing and she really hoped Baker wouldn't start crying again. 

"I just wanted to find out whether they had any idea who could have done that to Winnie. I've heard they've been questioning people." 

Margaret wrestled with the idea of telling her that McIntyre had been pulled out of their staff meeting to be questioned and then decided against it. She told Baker and it would be all around the nurses by dinner time. Half the women would decide there was no smoke without fire and she would find it hard to get nurses to work with McIntyre in the O.R. or Post-Op if they thought he could stab someone like Winnie. It was obvious to her that he couldn't, the only people less likely than McIntyre to stab someone would be Pierce or Radar but a lot of people didn't know McIntyre as anyone more than a great surgeon and a known flirt. 

"They have but it seems more like they're trying to find a lead than anything else." A thought occurred to her. "Baker, whose idea was it to go around to the back of the supply hut? Yours or Carmichael's?" 

She looked startled for a moment and then her expression turned thoughtful. "I'm not sure. We're both wanted somewhere a little private but I think James was the one to suggest that we find somewhere a little more private at that time. Everyone knows that the back of the supply hut has a tent attached to it and it's used for... that." Yes, Margaret was well aware of it and though it was against army regulations, she was sure it was the reason she wasn't stumbling across canoodling couples every time she turned around. 

"So you went round there and found Winifred." Georgia's eyes started to fill and Margaret realised she had only seconds before Baker was crying again and she was stuck trying to awkwardly comfort her while thinking about the letters she had to get done before the debrief tonight. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Would you be able to tell the other nurses for me that there is a camp wide debrief tonight? I think it would be good for you to go as well but if you can't manage it, then I understand." Thankfully, Baker took the out and left Margaret's tent. 

Before she settled down to her letters, she wanted to see the MPs. She wanted to see whether they had interviewed James Carmichael.


	3. Trapper

The MPs finally let him go but he was already an hour into his shift in Post-Op and he knew that Hawkeye was taking what remained of his shift. He didn't want to be around people right now, so he headed back to the Swamp and hoped to whatever God there was that Frank Burns wasn't in there.

"McIntyre." Major Houlihan was the second worst person he wanted to see right now but Trapper stopped anyway.

"Yes?" He couldn't even muster up the energy to call her Hot Lips. To know that his flirting and asking nurses out on dates was what got him questioned in the first place left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

"Are the MPs free?" The Major didn't ask about his questioning, she didn't look at him with doubt or wariness in her eye. She was her normal businesslike self and Trapper could have kissed her for it.

"As far as I know. They weren't saying anything about anyone else coming in after me." That seemed to be all she wanted because she marched off to the POW tent with a determined glint in her eye. McIntyre watched her go and then shook his head. She had a bee in her bonnet about something, and he hoped it wasn't about him.

His cot was calling him as soon as he got back and he slumped down in it, careful to keep his back to the door and Hawkeye's empty cot. He'd deal with everything when he woke up, right now all he wanted to do was sleep.

And sleep he did, though his dreams were troubled. Bloodstained women in bright white civilian nurses' uniforms were screaming at him as they held their bloodstained patients in their arms. Something about there being not enough blood, why didn't they have enough blood?

"Trapper, Trapper!" The voice pulled him away from a nurse with Louise's face yelling at him for not having enough blood to give and he woke up with a gasp. Hawkeye was standing over him in his white scrubs and Trapper felt the sudden urge to pull his friend into his arms and weep.

"Hawkeye." He settled for putting a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder and holding on tightly as he tried to push his dream back into the sleeping world where it belonged. He scanned Hawkeye with his eyes quickly, making sure he wasn't bleeding and tried to get rid of the coppery taste in his mouth.

"Hey." Hawkeye's voice was soft as he patted Trapper's arm. "I think you bit your tongue in your sleep. You're bleeding." Then he turned away to pour Trapper a drink but the alcohol just made the taste worse, even as it burned down his throat.

"Water please," Trapper gasped out. He would feel embarrassed over being so weak in front of Hawkeye, but later. Later they would be back to normal and Trapper wouldn't have just come back from being questioned about being a murderer. The water had the same strange aftertaste all water did in the middle of this war but Trapper drank it down anyway. His tongue throbbed but he was finally able to breathe. He slumped back against his pillow with a sigh and realised Hawkeye was sitting on his cot, looking at him. Trapper turned his body a little so he was curved around his friend and looked up at Hawkeye's face.

"You alright now?" Hawkeye asked, his eyes solemn in the dim light of the tent.

"As well as I can be." Trapper looked out of the tent's little window. "Did I miss the debrief?"

"Yeah but you didn't miss much." Hawkeye's mouth quirked in what could generously called a smile. "Whoever was on duty didn't show up, Margaret was stressing over writing the letters, a few nurses avoided the meeting because they already knew what was happening and didn't want to start crying in the middle and I asked Henry to let you sleep." He shifted but didn't get off the cot, even though Trapper was wide awake now. "What happened? What did the MPs say?"

He laughed because there wasn't anything else he could do, but it sounded strange. "They wanted to talk to me because Winifred had turned me down for a date when she first arrived. I told them that half the nurses here had turned me down and most of them didn't have a fiancé as a reason. Then they were asking me about all the nurses I had slept with in the past and my wife and did I dislike women? It was awful." He sighed and curled his body around Hawkeye, soaking in the warmth. The tent had gone cold when he had been asleep.

"Aw, Trap." Hawkeye's hand was on his hair now, fingers smoothing each individual curl. It was a comforting thing and Trapper felt his eyes slip closed. Maybe he would be able to sleep properly this time.

The tent door swung open in Frank Burn's customary entrance and Hawkeye's hand slid from his hair to his arm while Trapper straightened out his legs so it didn't look too much like he was trying to cuddle up to Hawkeye.

"What are you two ingrates doing?" It was amazing how whiny Frank could be without putting any effort into it. Trapper felt his shoulders start to tense as if by mere proximity Frank could induce tighter knots than the war itself.

"Talking, Frank. I know generally when you talk, people start throwing things at you but surprisingly enough, most people don't have that problem."

"In the dark?" Frank asked dismissively.

"Well, we don't need to see in order to talk," Trapper said, getting into the spirit of the conversation. It helped that Hawkeye hadn't moved from his position sitting on Trapper's cot.

"Do you hear with your eyes, Frank?" Hawkeye asked, sounding genuinely concerned and, as usual, Frank got fed up with them being ridiculous. He huffed and turned around to get himself ready for bed, leaving the two of them alone.

Hawkeye turned to Trapper and his hand came up to stroke Trapper's curls one more time before he pulled back. Trapper understood, he would have to go to back to his bed and sleep there. A small, childish part of Trapper wanted to ask him to stay, to be near to chase the nightmares away, but he squashed that part firmly. No way he was going to ask that, even if Frank wasn't across the tent listening to every little thing.

"Night, Hawk," Trapper said, willing himself to be the one to step back. He could feel Hawkeye's sigh more than he could hear it but it had him wanting to pull him closer all the same.

"Night, Trap." And the warm body weighing his cot down shifted and left, leaving Trapper colder than he had been before.

The next morning was even worse than the day before, which Trapper hadn't thought he was possible until he tried smiling at one of the nurses in the breakfast line, Lottie Fitzgerald, a nurse who Trapper had gone out with a few times before. Lottie paled when he smiled at her and then abandoned her tray before heading over to where the nurses were all gathered on one table.

Trapper blinked after her, completely confused. "What just happened?" He asked Hawkeye, standing behind him, close enough for Trapper to feel the heat through their thick jackets.

Hawkeye was watching the nurses' table and his jaw was clenched tight. He seemed to be understanding something that Trapper hadn't quite gotten yet and it was making him completely furious. "Just Nurse Fitzgerald rivaling Frank Burns in her stupidity," he said, uncommonly vicious and this time Trapper gave him a look.

They sat down at one of their usual tables near the door and started to liberally salt their food, the only way to make it halfway edible. Trapper yawned and let his head rest in one of his hands as he ate his food. When he looked up, Hawkeye was watching him fondly and Trapper smiled back, helpless to resist.

"What?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "Just good to see that somethings never change here."

Trapper grinned and let their feet bump together under the table. "And only the other day you were complaining about the very same thing."

One of the nurses, Trapper thought her name might have been Jenny, she had turned him down for a movie date, walked past their table.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, laughing after what you did," she hissed directly at Trapper before marching off back to the table of nurses and being swallowed up by the crowd. Her remark killed the mood instantly and Trapper realised what Hawkeye had known back in the mess line.

"They know I was questioned by the MPs yesterday." He looked down at his food. He had even less appetite than usual and put his fork down.

"They're just scared, Trap." Hawkeye's voice had gone all soft and comforting. "They don't actually think you did that to Winifred otherwise they wouldn't make themselves a target by coming up and yelling at you."

Trapper looked up at Hawkeye and gave him a little smile. That was Hawkeye, mixing logic and emotions together and throwing them out as if they were a proven fact. "But some part of them thinks I could be capable of that." He would be angry with them later, right now he was just depressed. He had thought he had gotten on well with most of the nurses, even outside of dates. The ones he dated knew he just wanted some fun to distract from the Hell that was the war and the ones who turned him down knew he took it casually. Or he had thought they had known.

Someone sat down next to Trapper and he looked up to see Margaret Houlihan, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, though her bangs softened the effect somehow. The expression on her fact, the tight jaw, the narrowed eyes, was the look of someone going to war.

"We're really not interested in a sermon today, Major," Hawkeye said in the kind of biting tone that sounded joking at first but was really deadly sincere.

"Well, you're just going to have to put up with me." She put her tray down on the table and got herself into position beside Trapper. "The nurses know you've been questioned by the MPs about Winifred."

"Yeah, I noticed." Trapper picked up his coffee, just to have something to do with his hands. "It's kind of hard to miss when you're being told off for smiling."

Margaret's jaw worked. "I've told them not to be so foolish. Other men have been questioned by the MPs and the only reason they're spending so long with each person is that they don't have a clue about who it could be. They're scared and trying to find someone to blame, which is childish of them if you ask me." She had a high and mighty air to her but she seemed to regard the suspicion of Trapper being a killer completely absurd and he was more grateful than he could ever say out loud.

"You're here to show them that you don't believe Trapper did it," Hawkeye said quietly and she nodded. The quiet moment between the three of them was ruined by Frank Burns showing up with his own tray.

"Margaret, what are you doing with them?" Frank did a far better goose impression than Jenny had, managing to whine and hiss at the same time.

"We're discussing work, Frank," Margaret said without batting an eyelash. "Either sit down and talk shop or go away." Frank opened and shut his mouth but huffed as he sat down. Kellye was the next one to arrive and Trapper wondered when their table had become Grand Central Station.

"Captain McIntyre?" Her voice was quiet. Kellye was one of those nurses who was dependable in a crisis, kind without being overbearing and when Trapper had accidentally drunkenly insulted her, she had put him down so fast, he got a little bit of a crush on her right then.

"Yes, Kellye?" He braced himself and saw Hawkeye watching Kellye carefully. Margaret and Frank were talking about something, though he was sure they were both listening as well.

"I just wanted to come over here and say that I don't believe it, not at all. You're no more of a killer than I am."

Trapper grinned. "Thanks, Kell. That means a lot." She blushed and smiled at him before saluting the table at large and hurrying off, out of the mess. The other nurses were watching them but Trapper was careful not to make any eye contact with them, merely turned back to the table.

"Feel better now?" Hawkeye murmured and Trapper shoved his leg with his foot.

"Don't get cute with me," he retorted.

"I can't help it, it's my natural state of being." Hawkeye smiled and Trapper laughed in order to make sure he didn't agree too much.


	4. Hawkeye

He had just gotten Trapper to relax after the disaster that was breakfast. He had sat him down, got a martini in his hand and was telling him about how young Hawkeye had climbed onto the roof of his house in order to see how far the horizon would stretch. Trapper was laughing, his teeth flashing and he was relaxing back in his yellow bathrobe and Hawkeye could feel himself doing the same. Trapper was normally relaxed and laidback about things, it was Hawkeye who would get a bee in his bonnet about stuff. When Trapper was angry it was normally something they were both angry about but for Trapper to be upset and Hawkeye not being able to do anything about it, it was messing with the way of things.

Of course, Margaret Houlihan had a knack for disturbing them when they were most relaxed.

"What do you want?" Hawkeye asked without looking round. Trapper looked up from where he contemplating the bottom of the glass and he immediately straightened. His reaction said something and when Hawkeye turned to look at Margaret, his worst suspicions were confirmed.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Hawkeye put his drink down and stood up. Margaret Houlihan was dead white apart from two bright pink spots on her cheeks. She looked like someone who had had a terrible fright and she wasn't one to scare easily.

"One of my nurses is missing. No one has seen her since before the debrief last night," Margaret said, her voice carefully controlled. "Margie Johnson. Five feet five, short brown hair, glasses. Quiet."

"We'll help you search," Trapper said as he put his glass down. "Does Henry know?" A swift nod from Margaret. "We'll start from the minefield and Rosie's and work our way across the camp."

"Let's hope she's just drinking her sorrows away in the bar," Hawkeye said, his words far more glib than his tone. He put the glass down and shucked off his robe, Trapper a step ahead as he pulled on his jacket. Hawkeye caught Trapper's sleeve as he went past. "We search together, okay, Trap?"

Trapper looked at him and Hawkeye both wanted him to understand and not at the same time. He didn't want anyone to be accusing Trapper again and if the only way he could do that was to stick to him like a barnacle, then so be it. Trapper nodded slowly and Hawkeye tried not to make his sigh of relief too obvious.

The two of them set off towards the minefield, silence between them as they searched even as they walked. Hawkeye was looking between tents and behind crates like Radar's animal farm and hated himself for doing so. There was no guarantee that she was dead but Hawkeye was becoming cynical here in Korea. Far more used to assuming the worst than anything else.

"She'll be fine," Trapper said to him in a low voice. "We'll find her passed out on a table in Rosie's Bar and that'll be that."

Hawkeye didn't say anything in return. Their positions were now reversed, it was Trapper trying to convince Hawkeye to be positive rather than the other way around.

The minefield was open and flat, nothing hiding there. They walked over to Rosie's, slowly so they could look behind every shrub and bush. When they opened the door of the bar, a wave of smoke and alcohol hit them, the very smell seeped into the pores of the building. It was relatively empty apart from a couple of stragglers and Rosie herself was behind the bar, instructing a younger woman in rapid-fire Korean. She smiled when she saw the two of them.

"Morning, boys. The usual?" Her hands were already in motion but when Hawkeye shook his head, she paused a little in her shock.

"Rosie, have you seen one of our nurses in the bar since last night? She would be about this high," he indicated his chest height with his hand, "with short, brown hair and glasses."

"Haven't seen anyone like that. You lost one of your girls?" Rosie's brow was furrowed, seemingly picking up on the seriousness of the mood.

"No one has seen her since last night," Trapper added. "You sure none of the nurses came in?"

"Very sure," Rosie replied. "I'll let you know if anyone like that comes in."

"Okay. Thanks, Rosie." Hawkeye and Trapper left the bar, their wavering hope slowly disappearing. Hawkeye followed Trapper's broad shoulders as they walked slowly back to camp and remembered what Margaret said. If no one had seen her since before the debrief last night, that meant they had a reason to question Trapper again. Hawkeye thought he had been helping when he had taken Trapper's shift and seen Trapper asleep and neglected to wake him for the briefing but instead all he had done was make sure he didn't have an alibi.

Margaret met them on the way back from camp. There was a lot more frenzied action in the camp, she had obviously sounded the alarm. She took one look at their expressions and her face fell.

"Next we search the hospital," Hawkeye said as soon as they were within earshot of her.

"You don't think she'll be in there, do you?" Margaret asked but shook her head before Hawkeye could say anything. "But we have to be thorough. Why don't you check the hospital and I'll search the Colonel's tent with Frank."

Normally Hawkeye would jump at the chance to make an off-colour remark about the other things that Frank and Margaret would be doing but the fact they were searching for a possibly-murdered nurse killed any possible remarks he might have made. He and Trapper had barely made it to the hospital doors before a cry went up,

"I've found her!"

They looked at each other and turned on their heel, in unison almost and ran over to the showers from where the cry had come. Margaret had got there first, Hawkeye wondered if she had managed to fit rockets to her shoes, and was already entering the showers. One of the corpsmen was bent double by the entrance, his face pale, and his buddy's hand was on his back.

"Breathe deeply, Zee," his friend said in a low, soothing tone. He barely gave the two of them another look and Hawkeye opened the door to the showers. Margaret was standing by the very end stall, the one which backed onto the tent and nobody used because it was half the size of a regular stall, not to mention how the tent being on a slant meant all the water drained down there.

"Hey, Major," Hawkeye said through the open door. He wouldn't like to admit it but he was scared to step inside. He didn't want the imprint of another murdered girl on the inside of his eyelids, no matter how selfish that was. And he definitely didn't want Trapper inside. "Does she need medical assistance?"

The corpsman, Zee, choked out a laugh beside him but Hawkeye ignored it. Margaret seemed to snap out from whatever trance she was in and walked to the door, her eyes staring but not seeing.

"She's beyond help, Pierce," she said quietly when she reached the door. Hawkeye stepped back to let her out but Margaret stayed hovering on the edge, as if there was nothing she would like more than to leave the showers but unwilling to leave her.

"That bad, huh," Trapper said flatly.

"Not as bad as Winifred but still not good," Margaret said, in that strangely quiet voice.

"There are the MPs." Hawkeye gestured and the MPs were heading over to the showers, grim looks on their faces. Not that much different than normal, but Hawkeye figured they were reading the mood. When he had gotten their attention, he turned back to Margaret. "Come on, Major. They'll need to get in the showers to see her."

"I can't leave her," she said firmly.

"We're not leaving her," Trapper said, stepping in when Hawkeye faltered as he always did. "We're just going to take a step to the side and let them through. They do whatever they want, sketches, notes, whatever, but then we'll pick her up afterwards. Put on a stretcher and make sure we treat her right."

Between the two of them, they managed to get her to move enough that the MPs were able to get in. Hawkeye turned his head away, not wanting to watch as they confirmed that once again, one of their nurses had died and not from the war. Dying during a shelling was awful and very unfortunate, but at least that would be somewhat expected. Being knifed by someone in the camp though? Definitely not.

The younger MP came out of the showers, looking shaken and like he was glad to get out of there. Hawkeye knew the feeling and he hadn't even been in there.

"Major Hopkins, when can we get her out of there?" Margaret asked. She was recovering her equilibrium now, he could almost see her spine straightening.

"As soon as Major Marshall is finished with his examination," Major Hopkins said. He and Margaret were a matching set, finding comfort in having their backs stiff and following protocol. Hawkeye inched closer to Trapper and took comfort in being with someone who matched him.

The MPs let them take Margie soon after that. She only had five stab wounds, unlike poor Winifred, but one had been to her neck and appeared to be the obvious cause of death. They put her with the other dead bodies in their chilled room, a new thing they had brought up during the summer and one which most of the camp, Hawkeye especially, avoided at all costs.

"Another debrief," Hawkeye said when the three of them stepped out of the room, none of them wanting to stay looking at Winifred and Margie's cold bodies lying with the soldiers they were unable to save.

"Another memorial service," Trapper added, even though there hadn't been time to have the first one yet.

"Another letter to write." Margaret rubbed a hand over her face and looked ten years older. "What the hell am I supposed to say? Oh your daughter wasn't killed by enemy fire but rather what looks like an American maniac with a knife?"

"A stiff drink before we gird our loins?" Hawkeye knew he wasn't hitting the right note but he was feeling far too tired for that. Trapper gave him a smile, though it looked like it took effort and Margaret glared at him. He noticed that she didn't say no.

"Attention, everyone. Incoming wounded coming in by helicopters on both the upper and lower pads. All shifts report to the O.R." The announcement had them all groaning in unison.

"Great," Trapper said bitterly. "We go from a butchered girl to butchered soldiers." Hawkeye put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close, ignoring Margaret for a second.

"Hey, at least we can save some of them. We couldn't help Winifred or Margie, but we can help those boys coming in." Trapper leaned against Hawkeye, just for a moment and Hawkeye relished in the moment of human comfort before the both of them straightened up, their game faces on.

Margaret had a strange look on her face and Hawkeye felt a pinprick of fear but when he tried to investigate it, to find out what exactly he was afraid of, his brain gave him nothing. "Ready, Margaret?" He asked instead and she seemed to snap out of whatever thoughts had her in a trance.

"Yes, ready, Doctor."

Scrubbing up and getting ready for a long shift in the O.R. was as normal as Hell could be. Hawkeye and Trapper didn't throw around as many jokes as usual but that wasn't too unusual. Rows of patients ready for them to perform meatball surgery on them, that was familiar.

However, when the first nurse refused to work with Trapper, Hawkeye felt a simmering anger start up inside of him. Wasn't it bad enough that this little corner of Hell had just become even worse? Did everyone had to just compound the problem? Then the second nurse refused to work with him and Hawkeye caught Margaret's eye. A quick gesture and Margaret was leaving Frank's table and coming over to work on Trapper's, leaving Hawkeye to work with one of the nurses who had refused to work with Trapper.

"You better keep up," Hawkeye said with a mean edge to his voice that he didn't like but showed up anyway. He used his anger to be hyper-focused on the patient in front of him, one that had a lot of shrapnel in his gut and chest so needed the attention. But if this were a normal day, Hawkeye would be joking with Trapper and Henry, keeping things as light-hearted as possible by teasing Frank, and talking through what he was doing. Hawkeye normally concentrated by talking but right now, he was in the kind of mood where he would go for the jugular. He knew that Jenny, who was working with him after she said she couldn't work with Trapper, had a mother dying back home and a fiancé who was critical about her career as a nurse. He knew just where to hit her to make her cry, to make her feel as small as she had made Trapper feel.

But he wouldn't. He knew he would regret it later if he opened his mouth and let some of the biting sarcasm come out and heaped on top of Jenny's head, when she was just scared and making stupid decisions because of it. Trapper would corner him and say he shouldn't have done that, Henry would say that he had enough work with Margaret making the nurses cry without Hawkeye adding to it and Frank would say that obviously this proved that he was a superior doctor because he kept his emotions out of it. He wasn't sure how it would prove that but he had every confidence that Frank could twist it that way.

So he did what he did best and he sewed teenage boys back together again. He didn't even snap at Jenny when she fumbled with the suction or was a little too slow with the clamp, he ignored her completely and wondered what would happen when the wounded stopped coming. Would the MPs question Trapper again? Maybe they wouldn't let him go this time.

It was dark again by the time they left the O.R. and started to change out of their scrubs. "What time is it?" Hawkeye asked Trapper. Henry was leaning against the wall, half-asleep already and Margaret and Frank were talking quietly together over in the corner. Probably planning on whether it would be alright for Ferret Face to come over to her tent tonight.

"I think it's midnight."

Radar scuttled into the room and he looked awful, even more so than they all did right now. "Sir." He approached Henry with a wary look in his eyes. Bad news, Hawkeye was sure of it, and he was also equally sure that he wanted to know what kind of news this was.

"Yes, Radar?" Henry looked at him and straightened up. "What is it?"

Radar gave them a cautious look but obviously decided there wasn't much chance of anything remaining secret right now. "There's been another death. While you guys were in the O.R."

A moment's silence and then Margaret was shoving her way forward as Trapper swore and Hawkeye threw his hat into the laundry basket. "Who is it? Is it one of my nurses? Tell me, Corporal."

"No, it's one of the orderlys. His name is Marlowe?"

"Jeremy Marlowe?" Trapper asked and when Hawkeye looked at his friend, he could see horrified knowledge on Trapper's face. "God-awful at poker but cheerful with it. Got a little girl back home about Becky's age."

"Jesus," Henry said as he scrubbed his hands over his face. "Okay, Radar. Let me get dressed and I'll meet with the MPs. Then I suppose I better get to work on his letter."

"He killed in the same way?" Hawkeye asked and Radar nodded, looking slightly sick.

"Stabbed several times, once in the neck. Major Hopkins said it was just like Margie." Radar had innocent eyes, even when he was drinking himself into a stupor, but right now they were clouded over. Hawkeye wished for nothing more than to go back to talking about Radar lying to his penpal friend.

"So it's not just nurses," Frank said.

"Yes, Frank, thank you for stating the obvious," Trapper shot back.

"We could be next! Anyone of us." Hawkeye didn't need to look to know that Frank's beady little eyes were darting around the place as his paranoia took hold.

"And with that selfishness interlude, can we look at what we're going to do next?" Hawkeye pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at Henry. Henry was one of his friends and a good doctor but right now, Hawkeye wished they had a commander who could make quick, decisive decisions. "Three people are dead in the same amount of days. We should be starting up a curfew or a buddy system or something." Normally he would be taking the first chance to grab onto the nearest nurse and call her buddy, but after half of them thought Trapper could be the murderer, he found his liking for that dimming a little.

"I know, Pierce, you don't have to tell me twice," Henry snapped. "A buddy system sounds like a good idea. Everyone pair up with someone and don't go anywhere without them, not even the latrine."

Hawkeye turned to Trapper, only to find him already watching him. "Hey, buddy."

Trapper smiled. "Hey."


	5. Trapper

"Frank, tell me you're not putting a gun under your pillow," Trapper said without hope that he would get a sensible answer. Hawkeye jerked his head up from where he was taking off his boots.

"Don't be an idiot, Frank, you're going to blow your head off in the night," Hawkeye said straight away.

"Though it's not like it'll affect his thinking much," Trapper muttered as he pulled off his boots as well. His exhaustion was bone-deep and all he wanted to do was to crawl into a warm, clean bed and know he wouldn't be woken up during the night for any reason. Unfortunately, he was in Korea so he had to settle for a flat surface, a blanket and the faint possibility that no more dead or wounded people would wake him up.

"I'm more worried that he'll shoot one of us in a paranoid haze."

"Oh, nuts to you!" Frank was as eloquent as ever and he stashed the gun lovingly under his pillow. Trapper turned his head, scoffing. Frank was going to get himself killed one day, or worse, someone else. "If that murderer comes into the tent, I want to be prepared."

"By shooting one of us?" Hawkeye spoke up. He was already lying down, his eyes closed and Trapper copied him, knowing their time was limited. "Frank, if you shoot me, I'll take back my rule about no killing specially for you."

"Hawk," Trapper murmured, quiet as anything and when he looked at Hawkeye, he had his eyes open, gleaming in the dim light from Frank's lamp.

"Okay, Trap." Hawkeye got it without Trapper needing to explain. Neither one of them said anything else to Frank that night, but they kept on looking at each other until he flicked the lamp off. Trapper lay awake for a while afterwards, despite how tired he was. Everything was messed up right now but, once again, Trapper thanked God that Hawkeye was with him. Korea was Hell but now the Devil was walking among them and they were pointing the finger at Trapper. If it had just been him and Frank here, he would have almost welcomed being attacked himself, just to be sent home away from this madhouse.

He was terrified, sure, but not more than when the shelling was hitting the camp and he didn't know where Hawkeye was. At least with this buddy system, Trapper could keep an eye on him. Nothing was going to snatch him away under Trapper's nose, though he might have to persuade Hawkeye to switch beds for a while.

With that thought in mind, Trapper fell asleep.

He was right, he got woken in the middle of the night, but not by any more dead bodies or wounded soldiers. Frank dropping one of his boots was what did it.

"What are you doing?" Trapper asked, groggy and confused. He recognised the figure as Frank, he could hear his squeaky breathing from here, but he didn't understand why he was wandering around in the dark.

"I heard something," Frank said in a loud whisper. "Shhh!" A sliver of light hit the gleam of the pistol and Trapper could see Frank was holding it poised at the ready, one finger on the trigger. The muzzle was pointing right at Hawkeye who was stirring in his cot, oblivious to Frank's stupidity.

"Frank, you better point that gun away from Hawkeye," Trapper said, his voice low with warning. Frank's head swiveled, though Trapper couldn't see his face.

"I'm not pointing it at Pierce!" Frank said, his voice a low whine. "Now quiet, I'm trying to listen."

Trapper got up, no sudden movements in the hopes that Frank's twitchy trigger finger would behave itself for once. "Frank, you take your gun off Hawkeye right now."

"It's not on Pierce, McIntyre," Frank said with a huff before looking down. "Oh oops, it is." He gave a nervous kind of laugh and Trapper stood up, wanting more than anything to get between a paranoid Frank with a gun and Hawkeye. Frank jumped and his gun swung round to point at Trapper. That was better but not ideal. Trapper froze in place.

"Frank, put the gun down," he said as soothingly as possible. He didn't know why Frank wouldn't just put it down, it wasn't like he was actually going to purposely shoot one of them, though Trapper wasn't going to rule out accidentally.

"How do I know you're not the guy doing this? You could be ready to murder me in my sleep," Frank said, a little hysterically. Trapper would prefer that the only gun in the tent wasn't being held by the hysterical guy but it looked like he wasn't getting a lot of choice.

"What's going on?" Hawkeye was awake and switching on a light. Trapper could see Frank's eyes dilate with the light and the quiver in his jaw. Frank was terrified and when Frank was terrified he did stupid stuff.

"Heya, Hawk," Trapper said, unable to stop the tension from showing in his face. He had his hands up now in the hopes Frank wouldn't take it as a threat.

It didn't take long for Hawkeye to catch up. "Frank, what the hell are you doing? Put the gun down!"

"How are we so sure that McIntyre isn't the killer?" Trapper would have nightmares about that voice. That whiny, self-serving, weasel voice as it justified pointing a gun at him.

"As sure as I can be about anything," Hawkeye replied and, even though the situation was tense, Trapper couldn't help smiling. Leave it to Hawkeye. "Besides, he was in the O.R. with us when the last person was found."

"But he's always wanted to get me!" Frank still hadn't put the gun down and as it waved front and back, Trapper couldn't take his eyes off it and wondered what his death certificate would say if Frank did actually shoot him. 'Shot by a paranoid quack?'

"No, no, Frank, that's me. And if you don't put that gun down, it's going to be a good one." Hawkeye's dark tone, so unlike his usual joking, sent a shiver up Trapper's spine, though he couldn't articulate why even to himself. Maybe it had gotten to Frank too because he hesitated for another moment before dropping the gun down to his hip.

"I didn't mean I was actually going to shoot him," Frank said in that joking way of his that meant he didn't want to be called out for his behaviour, rather than any humorous intent.

"Of course, Frank, you just regularly point your gun at people without intending to shoot them." Hawkeye was on his feet now and with two strides was beside Trapper and glaring at Frank. Trapper had dropped his hands but there was something about having Hawkeye beside him that made everything relax.

Hawkeye encouraged him back into his cot and pulled the blankets over, just like Trapper's mother used to do when she was tucking him into bed. Then he gently pushed and shoved until Trapper was lying on one half of the cot, somewhat tenuously clinging to the edge, and started stacking pillows from his own cot at the head of the bed.

"What are you two doing?" Frank couldn't help but ask, even as he was messing around on his side of the tent.

"Making sure Trapper doesn't get shot by an idiot with a gun," Hawkeye retorted, fast as anything. He picked up a couple of medical journals and sat down on Trapper's bed, his head leaning against his makeshift pillow bedboard and his legs next to Trapper's on the cot, though his were on top of the covers rather than under. There was barely any room for two men on the cot but Trapper turned on his side and shifted until Hawkeye could fit on comfortably. He was more leaning on Hawkeye to stop himself from rolling out of bed and his nose was buried in the folds of Hawkeye's sleep jacket, but he was far more relaxed than he had been since this thing had started.

Hawkeye opened up one of the medical journals and started to read, his guard position clear to both Trapper and Frank, who started muttering something over in his bed but settled down to sleep sure enough. Trapper wanted to wait until Frank was asleep before asking Hawkeye what he was doing but it wasn't long before Trapper was asleep himself.

They were woken again a few hours later. Outside the tent it was starting to get light but inside the tent, the lamp was shining brightly. Hawkeye had fallen asleep, his head dropped back against one of the pillows, a medical journal on his lap and one of his hands on Trapper's shoulder. He wished he could have stayed like this but there was another shout from outside, panicked and loud, and he jolted Hawkeye enough that he woke him up.

"What's going on?" Hawkeye mumbled as he raised his head but didn't move otherwise. Trapper took Hawkeye's hand and gave it a squeeze, pretending that this was like all the other touching they did.

"Something's happening outside," Trapper said and this got Hawkeye to wake up fast. The noise had finally woken Frank, who had once again pulled his gun out from underneath the pillow.

"Put that away, Frank before I throw it into the minefield," Hawkeye snapped as he went over to his cot to find his boots. Both he and Trapper had worn long sleeves to bed but the fire had died, leaving the tent a lot colder, and they knew outside would be worse. Boots, pants and thick jackets before the two of them were ready. Frank hastened to get his own clothing on.

"Wait for me!"

As much as Trapper would like to leave him there, he didn't like to think about what would happen if the killer found Frank alone in the tent. Or, the more likely scenario, where Frank shot someone innocent, like Radar, for coming into the tent and startling him. "As long as you leave the gun here," he said as Frank shoved his boots and reached for the piece.

"And leave me undefended?" It was like Trapper had suggested Frank shoot one of his children.

"If you want us to be near you to stop you being killed, then we're not going to risk being killed ourselves," Hawkeye replied. Frank looked hesitant but when he glanced up at the two of them, whatever was on their faces must have convinced him.

"Fine, fine." Grudgingly, he left the gun behind and the three of them stepped out into chaos. People were panicking, running from place to place but there was a particularly large crowd outside the latrines. Hawkeye and Trapper headed over there, not looking back to see whether Frank was following or not.

A man was lying crumpled on the ground, his head and shoulders being cradled by someone else. Henry Blake was there, wearing a robe and an exhausted look on his face. The lights from the camp lit up the gruesome scene and when some of the crowd moved, Trapper could make out the faces of Lorenzo Boone and Frank Daley, two of the hospital orderlys. Lorenzo's jacket was stained dark red in the light and his arms lay limply beside him even as his friend cradled him and cried.

"He was right outside," Daley was saying to Henry when Trapper and Hawkeye approached. "We did the buddy system, like you said, but 'Renzo said he would wait outside until I finished. And then I came out and he was gasping on the floor." Trapper knelt down beside him and checked Boone's pulse, though he was sure Henry had thought of it already. Hawkeye's expression was grim as he put one hand on Daley's back, offering what comfort he could.

Boone's eyes were open, staring into nothing and Trapper grimaced and looked away. When he had touched Boone to find a pulse, he noticed he was still warm. He had died barely minutes before they got there and the cold wind hadn't had the time to leech the air from his body. Trapper didn't know what was worse, the brutality of what had happened to Winifred, being jumped in the showers like Margie or being killed while your buddy was three feet away.

Radar was there, his eyes wide behind his glasses and while Boone's body is nothing like Winifred's was, Trapper still wanted to shield Radar from it. It was ridiculous, the kid had seen much worse things on the table and traveling to and from the MASH camp but he couldn't help but wish he hadn't seen it anyway.

"You didn't hear or see anything?" Henry asked but there was a defeated quality to his voice, like he knew what the answer would be. Daley went quiet as if trying to remember something, anything, that would help but he had to shake his head.

"Sir, what am I going to tell his girl?" Daley's voice was shaking and Trapper suddenly remembered that he and Boone had known each other before they came to Korea but hadn't been friends until they landed in the 4077 together. Boone hadn't been one of the smartest guys in the outfit but he had always been willing to help out. Daley had talked about going to medical school after the war was over while Boone had talked about a place with his girl and raising a family. From what Trapper had overheard in the mess tent, Boone's father had planned for his son to take over the family's hardware store and carry on the family legacy and Boone had seemed happy with that.

"Sir," Radar spoke up, interrupting Trapper's morbid thoughts about what Boone's father was going to do when he found out his son was dead. "Sir, choppers!"

"You have got to be kidding me," Hawkeye said, completely flat. The sound of chopper blades filled the air and for a moment, Trapper hated the war more than anything else in his life. They were standing in the bloodied dirt of one man and soon they would be up to the neck in the guts of others.

"Pierce, McIntyre, you two grab Burns and do what you can. Let me know if you need me but I'm going to stay here for the mo." That was far more decisive than Trapper had ever heard Henry Blake being but he wished it hadn't had to come under circumstances like this. "Radar - "

"Get the MPs, right." And Radar had disappeared before Henry had finished the sentence.

Hawkeye and Trapper gave Daley one more pat on the shoulder before heading over to the O.R just as the announcement sounded out.

_Attention, incoming wounded. Arriving on the upper and lower pads, as well as by ambulance. Brace yourselves._


	6. Hawkeye

"It's like this guy thought that this war couldn't get any worse, so he decided to add to it." Hawkeye put another bit of shrapnel in the tray the nurse was holding out to him. Her eyes looked vaguely familiar over the mask but with her hair and face covered, Hawkeye couldn't remember her name. She was quiet and she was quick, which meant Hawkeye could talk to Trapper without too much interference. The two of them were back to back so if Hawkeye took a step back, he would crash straight into Trapper. It was reassuring to know he was there but not as much as it would have been if Trapper was talking.

"Enough out of you, Pierce." Henry sounded more tired than Hawkeye had ever heard him. Even when the war was at its worst and Henry was at his most sarcastic, there was still a line of optimism to the man. A streak of home that remained, of his wife and his kids, of the home videos they would send, and the fact they were waiting for him to return home. Hawkeye really didn't like Henry sounded so defeated, so worn out by everything.

For once, he kept his mouth shut. When he paused in his surgery to straighten himself out and try to get rid of the ever nagging ache at the base of his spine, Trapper nudged with his elbow but didn't turn around to look at him, intent on closing the man on his table. Hawkeye would have thought it was an accident, but the nudge had been too purposeful, too long and Trapper was ignoring him completely, not even glancing over at him in apology.

He smiled behind his mask. At least Trapper was there for him. He made this war bearably, but right now with a killer hidden among them, he gave Hawkeye a sense of safety. It might be a horrible situation but Trapper helped to make sure he could live through it. He was always doing that.

They were finally getting to the end of the wave of wounded and Hawkeye wanted to sleep for a week. When he was finally finished, he walked into the scrub room and flopped down on the bench.

"No, can't go to sleep there, Hawkeye." Trapper was nudging him and Hawkeye yawned but didn't open his eyes and didn't get up.

"The war can handle itself without me. I'm going to sleep for a week right here." Hawkeye cracked open one eye just to see Trapper's reaction and was rewarded by his smile. Smaller than it would usually be but there.

"Come on, I'm not going to carry you back to the Swamp and I'm not sleeping here." It wasn't Trapper's teasing argument that got Hawkeye moving in the end but more the reasoning behind it. Trapper wouldn't go back to the Swamp without Hawkeye because they were supposed to be going everywhere with a buddy. Not only to stop each other from getting attacked but also to provide an alibi in case someone else tried to point the finger at Trapper again.

"Only because there's no Still here," Hawkeye said when he pushed himself to standing. He caught sight of Trapper's fond expression and knew he had seen right through him but he didn't care too much right now.

Frank was giving them the evil eyeball while Margaret was helping Henry, the latter two looking like they hadn't slept in a week.

"Don't even think about it, Frank," Hawkeye said when he saw the man's mouth open. "I still haven't forgotten about the gun." Waking up to find a nervous, paranoid Frank holding a gun on Trapper ranked up there as one of the worst wake up calls of his life.

"Gun? What gun?" Henry roused out of his stupor by a situation that should require the attention of a commanding officer.

Hawkeye looked at Frank and let his lips twist into a smile, but he wasn't feeling very humorous at the moment. "Do you want to tell them or shall I?"

Trapper was suddenly there, his shoulder blocking Frank from view. He didn't look angry at Hawkeye but he had blocked his view for a reason.

"What's this about a gun?" Henry asked again.

"Frank?" He could almost feel sorry for Margaret. Not only did she lose two nurses to a deranged killer but she had to deal with Frank's everything.

Trapper looked at him, one eyebrow raised, but Hawkeye pressed his lips together. If he starting talking about what had happened, he would probably start yelling. It was better than crying but not by much.

"Frank has decided to sleep with a gun under his pillow for protection," Trapper said when it looked like Hawkeye wasn't going to say anything. "I woke up to him pointing it at Hawkeye while he was asleep."

That was something Hawkeye hadn't known.

"Frank!" Margaret sounded horrified. Funny, he hadn't thought she would care that much.

"I wasn't pointing it at him," Frank protested. "I heard a noise and I had my gun drawn. McIntyre overreacted."

"Overreacted?" Trapper had a way of drawing himself up to his full height and staring down at someone. He wasn't actually that much taller than most of them there (except for Margaret) but he knew how to do intimidating. Though it didn't seem to work on Hawkeye because all he wanted to do was get closer. "I found my paranoid bunkmate pointing a loaded gun at my sleeping best friend?" Hawkeye completely denied the shiver that went up his back at Trapper's passionate defense of him. "Frank, I wouldn't trust you with a toy gun, let alone anything more deadly."

"Wait a minute," Hawkeye said, capturing Trapper's attention instantly. Margaret was still giving Frank horrified looks and Henry looked like he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. "How did he go from pointing a gun at me to pointing a gun at you?"

Trapper shrugged in a mock-casual way, his shoulders lifted and fell but there was something stiff and unnatural about it. "I yelled at him to knock it off and he pointed the gun at me instead." It was like the messed up Korea equivalent of taking a bullet for someone, except Trapper pulled the gun towards himself.

"Sirs!" Radar came through the door with dramatic flailing. Any other time Hawkeye would be quick to shoot out a remark, maybe about how it's a good thing Radar is so small, it means he can get around quickly. But the look of Radar's face was awful and getting to be all too familiar.

"What is it, Radar?" Henry's voice is tight and he pulls himself up straight. Not military-straight but unusual for Henry-straight.

"Klinger got attacked," Radar said, his words coming out in between pants. In the ensuing chaos, Hawkeye felt adrift, like everyone else was reacting on the other side of thick glass. All he could think about was Klinger with his dresses and his many, hilarious schemes to get out of the army and how he would never go home now. He died in the army and would never leave.

Then Radar's attempt to speak over everyone else finally pierced Hawkeye's fog. "No, no, he's still alive!"

Klinger was in pre-op with several nasty stab wounds to his arm and back. They looked vicious but he had been partially lucky in that the attacker had missed the heart completely and only nicked one of the lungs. Five hours of surgery later and he was asleep in post-op, mercifully, wonderfully alive.

"He got as lucky as any guy attacked by a killer can get," Trapper said to him when they retreated to the Swamp later. The two of them had been the ones to operate on Klinger, while Henry had dealt with the MPs and the mess left behind.

"Maybe he'll even get discharged from the army for this," Hawkeye said, preferring to look at the hopeful end of things. The mood of the camp had changed with Klinger's attack and the two of them kept getting stopped by people who asked if it was true that Klinger had survived.

Baker was one of the last ones to grab them before they hit their tent. "Is it true that Klinger survived?" Her eyes were red-rimmed but clear and she looked at the two of them with what looked like barely concealed hope.

"Yeah, it's true." Trapper gave her an easy grin and Hawkeye echoed it. "He's resting up in post-op and a couple of the nurses volunteered to work there as extra to make sure he was alright." Not that Klinger would be needing much overnight, with the length of the surgery, Hawkeye wouldn't be surprised if he ended up spending a whole day asleep.

"Do you think the killer is getting sloppy?" Baker looked between the two of them and Hawkeye felt a shiver go up his spine as he was reminded that the killer hadn't been caught yet.

"We can only hope." Trapper smiled at her but this time it was a dismissal and Baker waved to both of them before heading off. "God, I really hope the killer is getting sloppy and gets caught," he said as they headed into the Swamp. Frank wasn't back yet and Hawkeye let himself fall onto the cot, causing it to creak ominously. Trapper was already busying himself with the Still and he watched him with half-open eyes, too tired to get up and help.

"Do you think Margaret's guilted Frank into giving up the gun?" Hawkeye asked. He had managed to stir himself to take the glass when handed to him but even that was an effort.

"Not likely. She likes them too much. Giving it to her, that's far more likely." Trapper sat on the chair in between their two beds and Hawkeye moved closer to the edge of the bed, though he was careful not to think too hard about why. He was just glad that Trapper hadn't sat down on his cot. "If he shoves it under his pillow again, I say we put him and his cot outside."

A prank that wasn't too out of the realm of possibility for them but considering there was a killer stalking the camp, Hawkeye felt like they wouldn't be able to put it into action quite yet. Promising for afterwards though. "Dump him on Margaret," he suggested and took a sip of his glass before he let himself slump back against the pillow. His exhaustion had hit him like a freight train, it was hard to muster up the energy to even finish his drink.

"Then she'll come after us," Trapper said but this didn't sound like a negative point in his eyes. He put his feet up on Hawkeye's bed and shuffled closer. It was like before when they were sharing the bed but Frank could walk in and it would be completely innocent.

He suddenly froze as he thought over what he just thought. He had never desired to be thought of as 'completely innocent' and to worry about it now when he was lying down with his best friend, that wasn't something people usually thought. He turned the thought over in his mind and it felt like something well-worn, like he had always thought something like that but he had just tucked it away until he was ready to deal with it.

Trapper was lying back in his chair, his head tipped back with his eyes closed and his half-filled drink at a precarious angle in his hand. Exhaustion and stress had carved lines on his face which hadn't been there when Hawkeye had first met him, and the dark circles under his eyes could probably be blamed on the maniac with a knife that was stalking the 4077. When Hawkeye looked at him, he wished he could touch him. Make sure he was really there.

Then Trapper opened his eyes and Hawkeye was caught off guard, unable to hide his newfound knowledge away and he saw Trapper's expression twist into shock as realisation dawned.

"Hawk," Trapper said, only for his next words to disappear into the heavy silence blanketing them both. This was when Hawkeye would lose him, not to a serial killer but to his own feelings and his inability to hide. Trapper put his drink on Hawkeye's bedside table and then took Hawkeye's from his hand and put it in the same place.

"Trapper, I didn't..." Words were Hawkeye's thing and yet they failed him now. Trapper, who had always been far better at action than Hawkeye, pulled him into a hug that took him near off the bed. The position was uncomfortable, twisted and hanging off the bed as he was, but Hawkeye put his arms around Trapper and held on, grateful he even got this.

"After the killer is caught," Trapper said, voice muffled into Hawkeye's jacket, "after this mess is over, we go to the supply tent and you can tell me what you were thinking about just then."

Hawkeye pressed a kiss to Trapper's curls and part of his ear, the only part of him that he could reach. "You got a deal."


	7. Henry

The next morning they were standing in front of Henry's desk and Henry wished he could be anywhere but here. This wasn't the first time he had wished this and definitely wouldn't be the last, but right now he wanted to be away from here more than anything. If it wasn't enough that he had wounded up to his neck to deal with, supplies which were liable to run out or go missing at the drop of a hat and doctors who wanted to be here even less than he did, now one of his people were going around murdering everyone else with a knife.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We were going to see if we could help you find out who the knife guy is," Pierce said. He looked far more forgiving than he normally would, though just as tired as they all did. Henry wondered if he was going to get the guys he liked to hang out with or the guys who wound up Frank just to hear Henry, Burns and Houlihan scream as one.

"Thanks guys." Henry decided to take them at face value for now. "The MPs want me to go through all the new personnel and see if it could be one of them." He handed McIntyre the list of new people who had arrived in the camp in the past couple of months. "But then it could also be someone who has been here since the beginning who's just snapped and started killing people." And he handed another list to Pierce. "So really, it could be anyone."

"How are you meant to be suspicious of anyone when all you have is names on a page?" McIntyre asked in a distracted way as he scanned the papers in front of him.

"And what's suspicious? Someone who's complained about the war or shown signs of stress? Someone who has had screaming arguments with people over the stress of it?" Pierce dumped the papers back on Henry's desk in front of him. "That's all of us. This war is sending us all crazy, it's only sent someone crazy enough to kill people." A pause as everyone realised what he said. "Kill civilians in a medical unit of their own country, I mean," Pierce corrected himself. "And I can't believe I'm in a place where I have to make that correction."

McIntyre gave him a sympathetic smile and clapped a hand on Pierce's shoulder. It wasn't anything Henry hadn't seen before but there was something about it that was different. A little too happy for the circumstances.

There were many things that Henry had done in Korea that the top brass wouldn't approve of but he knew there were many more things which he was turning a blind eye too. He had to pretend not to know about the black market, about the mattress at the back of the supply tent, about the stuff that went on behind the scenes of the 4077 because as long as he didn't know about it, he didn't have to punish anyone for it. And those things he didn't know about - they kept everyone sane. This place only ran so efficiently because it was a madhouse underneath and people could be sane on the job as long as they had somewhere to let off steam.

So Henry saw the look between Pierce and McIntyre and saw the difference between now and before and chose not to think about it any further. Even if nothing had changed, he wasn't going to investigate. If he even started to suspect something going on, he would lose out his two best surgeons and he would find even harder to go to sleep than he already did.

"Is there anyone who has changed over the last couple of weeks? Anyone who shows up on your radar?" Henry had to ask, but he couldn't think of anyone. Pierce was right, all those danger signs the MPs had asked about him were signs they had all displayed one way or another. Most people let off steam with drink or sex or humour, he had never had one that let off steam by killing people.

"You know who we need," Pierce said after a moment's silence, "we need Major Freeman. He knows how people think, he'll be able to find who is regular crazy and who is stabbing-people-with-a-knife crazy."

Finally an idea that Henry could use. "Good one, Pierce. He should be on his way down anyway for poker, I'll tell him to hurry it up."

McIntyre fiddled with the papers he was still holding onto. "Do the MPs have any real idea about who could have done it?"

Henry sighed. "No. They thought they would have a longer list after Boone and Klinger happening when wounded were on our tables, but no dice. It's too chaotic, there's no way of telling who was here and who wasn't. When I said they could definitely rule surgeons out, they said no because people take a break so often that it would be hard to tell who was out of the room at any particular time. The only people they could say definitely aren't the killer are the victims."

"Basically we know that Klinger is the only alive person who it couldn't be," Pierce said grimly. "How cheery."

"Buddy systems, curfews. Even with everything that's been put into place, people are still dying. Boone was killed when standing outside the latrine, his buddy barely two feet away. I can't imagine..." McIntyre scrubbed a hand over his face and Pierce was there, with a comforting hand over his shoulder, the touch just slightly longer than usual. Henry was careful not to notice.

"We'll work something out, Trapper, don't you worry," Pierce said steadily. Then he turned his gaze onto Henry, who braced himself for the direct questions Pierce was so good at, ready to expose Henry's weaknesses as a leader, especially in a situation like this. "Have you got a buddy, Henry?"

"I've mostly been with Radar since we passed the system." Henry would give Pierce a grateful smile if he hadn't realised that he was thanking Pierce for thinking of him when a killer was loose in the camp and his smile froze on his lips. He coughed to cover it up.

"Sidney's coming down," McIntyre said, "and everyone is going around in buddy systems and with curfews. The MPs are patrolling the whole camp. What else can we do to make sure everyone is safe?"

"Nothing." Henry felt gloom descend on him. Last night he had dreams about Lorraine's body looking like Winifred's and he wondered if he would leave this war with his sanity intact. How could he go home to his practice and his family when he had those images in his head? Wounded soliders that ran foul of a grenade were bad enough, but the bodies were piling up and not only did he have to deal with the fact he had a killer in his camp but they could come for anyone at any time. "If you guys see anyone on their own, make sure they have a buddy with them."

"Decisive as always, Henry," Pierce said dryly.

"Knock it off, Pierce. As well as the usual Hell this place is, my dreams are now haunted by this maniac's handiwork. I'm not at my best."

"No one is, Henry," McIntyre said with a smile that was both sympathetic and mocking at the same time. It was a special talent of McIntyre's, or maybe it was because he was always mocking something.

"We'll keep an eye out, Henry," Pierce promised.

The camp had changed, Henry noticed as he went to the latrine with Radar. It was a nice day weather wise, but people were moving in clumps, the air suspicious and tense. It was amazing how something as completely awful as being on the front line of the Korean war could get even worse by one person's actions.

"Radar, I want you to keep talking while I'm in the latrine," Henry said. Radar blinked up at him through those glasses of his and Henry wished he could just send the kid home. He would be lost without him but at least Radar would be working the farm and enjoying life without worrying about being blown up or stabbed.

"Talking? While you're in there?" Radar gestured to the latrine and his eyes got impossibly wide. "I can't talk while you're doing your business!"

"Radar, did you forget what happened to the last guy who stood outside the latrine while waiting for his buddy?" Henry asked and realisation dawned in Radar's eyes. "I don't care what you talk about, home, food, animals. You can even sing if you want but I want you making noise, loud noise, the whole time I'm in there. You stop and be prepared for me to burst out there with my pants around my ankles. And if I do that, you had better be unconscious because that'll be the only good reason to stop."

"Yes, Sir," Radar said, his eyes as wide as ever. Henry hesitated but knew he couldn't hold it in forever. There were loads of people around the camp and Radar, after his nod, started talking about all the animals he had on his farm back home. He had names for each and every one of them and even though Henry was as quick as he could, Radar said he was only halfway through the list.

"Good job, Radar," Henry said as soon as he came out. "And I can only hope a time will come soon when that won't be necessary." Radar nodded quickly before his head sprang up like a dog's when it heard food hitting its bowl. "Oh, don't say it."

"Choppers."

Henry really wanted to go home.


	8. Trapper

Red, white and green, the true American colours. Trapper looked down at the kid on his table and wondered how much more he could take. Wounded after wounded, and now someone picking off those who treat the wounded. He would even take the sniper back, at least that had some logic to it. Twisted, war logic but logic all the same. But Klinger was in post-op talking to the MPs at this moment so maybe this guy would be caught before he could hurt anyone else. 

"Is it weird that I can't wait for this war to go back to our regularly scheduled Hell on earth rather than this special?" Trapper said to Hawkeye, working on the next table. They were six hours into their shift in the O.R. and it didn't look like the flow of wounded was stopping any time soon. As soon as they felt they were getting to the end, another ambulance or chopper turned up and gave them more. 

"With our regular nightmares," Hawkeye replied, a little darker than he would normally. Trapper straightened up, hoping to get his back into a normal position again. He twisted his torso and stretched his arms before getting back to stitching up his patient. 

"I'm almost finished with this one and could do with a break. Hawk?" 

"Nowhere near, Trap." Hawkeye sounded apologetic. "At least another hour. Everytime I think I've got it all, I discover a new shard of shrapnel in this kid's gut." 

Trapper winced. He really had to use the latrine and sooner rather than later. If he got another kid on his table, he would be stuck there for hours and he would prefer not to have to change his scrubs. 

"I'll be with you in a few minutes, McIntyre," Henry said, coming to save Trapper's behind or at least his bladder. He stitched up the kid, making sure it was as neat as he could make it, and stepped back from the table. 

"I'll be outside, Henry," Trapper said, heading towards the doors. When he got the chance to leave for a break, he couldn't wait to get out of the room that smelled of disinfectant, blood and the contents of someone's intestines. 

"McIntyre, wait for me," Henry said just as the doors closed behind him. Trapper stripped off his surgical garb and shucked on a jacket over his scrubs. He glanced back through the window of the door and saw Henry closing up his patient. He glanced up and saw Trapper at the window and held up one finger, the sign for one minute. Trapper rolled his eyes but nodded. 

Then there was a crash and a short scream, almost muffled, which came from outside. Trapper whipped his head around and without thinking about it, went to help. He threw open the outside door to find the camp in darkness apart from the lights set up at strategic points. There was no sign of anyone who screamed and Trapper squinted at the camp to see if anyone was down the side of the tents as the door slammed shut behind him. 

Someone punched him in the middle of his back and he staggered. He tried to turn but they punched him again and the pain felt far more sharp than Trapper had ever experienced from a punch before. He went down on his knees, suddenly weak, and the door swung open. 

"McIntyre!" Henry's voice was a welcome relief but when Trapper managed to turn his head to look, there was no one there apart from Henry. "I told you not to go out here without me." A step closer. "Why are you kneeling down?" 

"I think he stabbed me," Trapper said, his words coming out slow and heavy. Even being on his knees was too much for him and he let himself fall so he was resting on his heels but the jarring made fire shoot up his back. 

"Oh no, oh Jesus." Henry pulled open the door and bellowed in, "can I get some help here?" 

The good Father was one of the first ones there, his cross glinting in the light. Trapper focused on that rather than see the look on Hawkeye's face when he followed Father Mulcahy out. 

"Trapper." Hawkeye was there and Trapper slumped against him, finding it hard to keep himself upright now. Hawkeye faltered a little but then caught himself and sat strong. "Can I get a stretcher out here?" he yelled, closer to Trapper's ear than he would like but it was getting harder to hear people. 

"Why the hell did you come out here alone?" Henry was close behind him and there were more people around him but he couldn't tell who was who. His vision was tunnelling down but there was something important he had to say. 

"Hawk," he murmured and he almost felt his best friend come to attention. 

"I'm here, Trap," he said in that reassuring manner he had when he was completely and utterly terrified. "I'm here." 

With great effort, Trapper raised his voice. "Hawk, someone screamed. Came out 'cause scream." 

"Henry, Trapper says someone screamed and that's why he came out here." Hawkeye started talking over Trapper's head but that was okay because now Hawkeye knew, he could pass out. 

The next time he woke up, he still felt groggy and slow but there was a floating numbness rather than pain and he was horizontal. There was also no Hawkeye, which he wasn't so pleased about and he was almost tempted to go back to sleep. 

"I don't care who you are, this is my patient and you're not waking him up from a healing sleep in order to answer your questions." Margaret Houlihan's stringent voice was normally the last thing he wanted to wake up to but it seemed she was defending his chance to sleep and he was definitely in favour of that. 

"We're trying to catch a killer," one of the MPs said. It was the younger one, the one who had looked like he was going to pass out the other day by the showers. "Corporal Klinger wasn't able to give us anything and it's our hope Captain McIntyre would be more helpful." 

"Captain McIntyre has just had surgery on stab wounds to his torso. The person who stabbed him ripped open his back across the shoulders, requiring over forty stitches. He is at a high risk of infection and at the moment he is sleeping, which is what he needs to heal. I will be here until it wakes up and at that point I will let you know." Margaret sounded like she was about to bodily throw the MPs out and if it wouldn't give away the fact he was awake, Trapper would open his eyes to watch that happen. 

"Maybe Captain Pierce would be more sensible about this," the older MP said and Trapper wanted to echo Margaret's snort. 

"What's going on?" Hawkeye sounded exhausted and Trapper was struck with a sudden worry - if Hawkeye didn't have his buddy, was he going around camp on his own? 

"These men want to wake up McIntyre to question him," Margaret replied. "I don't object to the questioning but I objected to them waking him up." 

"As my colleague said, there is a killer on the loose." The older MP sounded like he was losing his patience right about now. 

"And we would prefer not to add to his body count." Hawkeye's voice was tight and sharp. When he got like this, he had a tendency to either silence those he was against or make them even angrier. "When Trapper wakes up, you can talk to him if he feels up to it. But you are definitely not waking up my patient post surgery, especially since he probably didn't see anything considering he was stabbed in the back rather than the front." 

As much as Trapper really would prefer not to deal with the MPs when he felt like he had been run over by a Jeep, he couldn't listen to Hawkeye sounding so worried without doing something about it. He cracked his eyes open to see that he was on one of the end beds in Post-Op, on the other side of the room to where he had been when he had the flu, and there were four people standing over him. 

"It's okay, Hawk," he said, or rasped rather. It sounded like he had spent the last few hours inhaling smoke. It wasn't very loud but it did get everyone's attention. They all said something but it was Hawkeye's smile which Trapper focused on the most. He was lying on his side and had a feeling he didn't want to roll onto his back, but he wanted to crane his head to look at his friend properly. Dimly he realised he should look away before the MPs started to come to a few conclusions of their own. 

Thankfully, Hawkeye went into doctor mode and immediately started his own check-up on Trapper, including asking how the pain was. The MPs waited not-so-patiently throughout this whole thing and didn't budge, no matter how much Margaret glared at them. Hawkeye helped Trapper to sit up so he could have a look at the wounds on his back and as he did so, Trapper looked at the MPs. 

"Hawk's right. They crept up on me from behind, I didn't see anything." The older MP, whatever his name was, remained stone-faced but the younger one looked disappointed. Hawkeye pressed higher up on his back and Trapper winced. "I was waiting for Henry in the gowning room when I heard someone scream. It was quiet but I was worried someone else was being attacked so I went out there and as soon as the door closed they stabbed me. It felt like a punch and I... " His brow furrowed. 

"Trap?" Hawkeye stopped his examination to twist his head to see what Trapper's expression was doing. 

"They're short," Trapper said slowly. "I thought it was weird that they had punched me where they did because normally you try and get a guy in the back of his head if you're wanting to take them by surprise. But they didn't. Then again, a lot of guys are short to me." He shrugged or tried to but stopped when pain swept over his back. "That's it." 

"You heard him." Houlihan swept the protesting MPs out of post-op but they went willingly enough, maybe sensing Trapper really couldn't give them anything else. 

"Stop moving, you idiot," Hawkeye said as he helped Trapper to lower himself back down, this time on the other side. Next to him was the familiar face of Maxwell Klinger. How Trapper could have missed his snoring he never knew. 

It felt like he was going to fall asleep again but Trapper fought it and grabbed onto Hawkeye's hand. "Hawkeye, make sure you have a buddy. Get Henry to stay in the Swamp or something. Just don't go anywhere without a buddy." 

Hawkeye smiled but it was small and painful to look at. "I won't if you won't. Stay here, Trapper and I'll watch my back. No more rescuing damsels in distress." 

Partly reassured, Trapper tried to return his smile but ended up fading into sleep faster than he thought. As he did so, he felt like there was something niggling at him but it was hard to tell as to what.


	9. Natalie Walsh

Normally Natalie loved the Post-op shift at night. When there were no wounded coming in and she knew it was just her and her patients, it was time to get everything as it should be. She wouldn't admit it to the other nurses for fear of being teased about wanting to fill Major Houlihan's boots but she definitely liked a certain order to things.

Of course with everything that was going on, she wasn't alone on her post-op shift. Georgia Baker, one of the new nurses that only turned up two weeks ago, was with her tonight. She still looked pale and Natalie grabbed her before she could do the patients' round.

"Are you sure you're okay to be here?" She kept her voice low and quiet in deference to the sleeping patients. Doctor McIntyre was only a few feet away and he didn't look like he was sleeping peacefully at all. She needed to check whether he was due some more pain medication.

"Thanks, Nat, but I'm fine. I can't just sit in my tent doing nothing, I'll go mad. You know? Keeping busy is the best way." She gave Natalie a small smile and started to walk up the line of patients, checking their charts and their condition just like Major Houlihan liked them to do at the start of a shift.

Natalie set herself down to checking Corporal Klinger and Doctor McIntyre. She wouldn't say she would treat her other patients any worse but these were two of their own and they were injured by some maniac with a knife. Klinger was healing up nicely and resting peacefully, though it was odd to see him in the bed without one of his dresses on. Trapper looked uncomfortable but he still had fifteen minutes before his next dose of pain relief.

She set about doing their observations, focusing especially on the doctor's blood pressure and heart rate. She was sure Hawkeye would be in here soon and asking how Trapper was doing. The two of them were joined at the hip and she was pretty sure no matter what Colonel Blake said, Hawkeye would not be sleeping right now. Probably pacing the floor of the Swamp and driving Frank Burns nuts.

Trapper shivered and winced in his sleep. She felt the urge to pet his curly hair, much like she would do to her nephew back home, but held herself back. There were certain liberties you didn't take with the doctors, especially when you weren't sleeping with them. She was pretty sure even if she was sleeping with Trapper, he wouldn't like her petting his hair like a child.

"How are they doing?" Georgia was suddenly there, looking down at Trapper. She had a odd look on her face and Natalie patted her on the arm before she stood up. It must be strange to come to the frontline in a MASH unit and then have to deal with a killer who murdered the only person you knew from before. Georgia had to be feeling all mixed up inside and Natalie resolved to make sure she was invited to the next coffee meet up. They already had Mickey so life was going to get confusing if they called them both Baker though.

"He's doing okay. He can have some more pain relief in a little while, I wouldn't like Pierce to come in here and find him in this much pain. He's under so much stress and you know how he'll be if he finds McIntyre any worse." Natalie waved a hand as Georgia gave her a curious look. "Oh, don't worry. Peas in a pod, those two. Hawkeye - Doctor Pierce is just worried about him." She went over to the other end of Post-Op for a jug of water, ready for when Trapper woke up.

When she got down to the other end, however, Georgia was pressed against the door with a tense look on her face. "I think I heard something," she whispered when Natalie got closer. Immediately, Natalie felt herself tense up. She crept to the doors with Georgia and looked out at the office.

"Did you see anything?" Natalie asked and Georgia shook her head.

"Can you come with me? Just to look out the office window." Georgia's mouth went tight. "If there is anyone walking through the camp on their own, we can sound the alarm."

Natalie hesitated. Chasing killers was not something that was particularly smart and she didn't feel particularly brave at the moment. "Just the office, okay?" And Georgia nodded.

Radar was sleeping in the same tent as Colonel Blake or maybe in the Swamp where Trapper normally slept. His little bed looked very empty sitting there without him in it but Natalie was too busy trying to see in the dark in the dim office to think over it too much. They reached the door to the outside and Georgia gestured to Natalie to look.

"You're taller," she whispered, "I'll watch your back."

Natalie wouldn't admit it but she felt relieved. The office was a lot creepier when it was dark and quiet, especially when she knew there was a killer out there. She peered out the window and strained her eyes looking in all the dark corners. She could hear Georgia breathing behind her and turned slightly in order to face fully outwards. She could see the two men patrolling the camp, slow, steady steps as they checked down the little alleyways that sprung up between tents. It seemed doubtful that anyone could get to anyone else without the patrol seeing, but someone had before.

She narrowed her eyes as a dark figure came out of the swamp and started chatting to the two guys on patrol. Hawkeye Pierce, right on schedule. She opened her mouth to say this to Georgia when a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back with eyewatering force. Her blood splattered the window as the rest of her world went dark.

She fell to the floor and watched as Georgia Baker went back through the doors of Post-Op, knife dripping with Natalie's blood shoved down the back of her pants. She didn't look back and Natalie closed her eyes.


	10. Hawkeye

He was just about ready to say that he was fed up of this war. Oh, he had been fed up with it before many times, with the blood and the death and the terror they had to learn to work around every moment of the day, but it was like the war gods had heard his cursing against them and decided there was a way of making everything ten times worse.

One of the MPs was patrolling with Zane, though neither of them looked happy about it. Not one of the two from earlier, one that looked even older and even more senior than Major Marshall.

"You shouldn't be out at this hour," the MP said.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Pierce," Hawkeye said, resorting to humour in a crappy situation as always. "I've been kicked out of my tent because I'm driving everyone barmy. Would you be able to walk with me on the way to Post-Op? I want to check on my patients."

"Sure we can, Pierce." Zane wasn't nearly so agreeable but Hawkeye guessed this was more to piss off his patrolling partner than actually help Hawkeye. Still, he would take what he could get.

"You should be getting sleep in case another load of helicopters come in," the MP said in an unamused tone.

"Yeah, well, my friend got stabbed today by the killer wandering through the camp so I would like to make sure he wasn't showing any signs of infection from the big gaping stab wound." Hawkeye's tone got sharper as he thought about Trapper but thankfully the MP didn't object after that. They escorted Hawkeye to the hospital building but as they grew clearer, Hawkeye could see something splattered on the inside of the window.

"What's that?" The MP had seemingly spotted what Hawkeye had noticed. He shone his torch upwards and glinted off the red shine of blood.

Hawkeye thought he had been through some pretty terrifying situations in Korea so far, but never had the phrase 'his blood went cold' meant so much to him. The thought of the killer murdering Trapper while he slept, after he had already had a lucky escape the first time, set off all manners of alarms in Hawkeye's head.

"He's in the building." Hawkeye slammed the door open and almost tripped over Nurse Walsh, her throat covered in a red, gaping wound. Her eyes, half open and staring blankly at the post-op doors told Hawkeye he was too late for her.

"Oh shit," Zane said, panic obvious in his voice. Hawkeye took a moment and then a crash from Post-Op brought him back from his senses. He ignored the MP calling to him to stop and slammed into Post-Op at a dead run, his gaze going instantly to Trapper's bed where he was struggling with a petite woman with dark hair. The patients were starting to stir from the noise, most of them in morphine-induced sleeps.

"Hawkeye!" Trapper's panic instantly inflamed Hawkeye and he wrenched the woman off Trapper, throwing her at the MP's feet before heading towards Trapper. He was covered in blood and panting heavily. Hawkeye immediately set to checking where he was hurt and how many stitches he had torn as the sounds of a struggle went on behind him.

Klinger was awake and staring at the fight, his dark eyes wide with shock and an abrupt awakening. "It's Nurse Baker!" He said and Hawkeye, in the middle of examining one of the new cuts Trapper had on his arm, had to turn and look.

Georgia Baker was handcuffed on the floor, her gaze flat and hateful as she stared up at Trapper and Hawkeye. When she looked at Trapper, her gaze was so cold that Hawkeye found himself shifting in front of his friend without another thought.

"Nurse Baker, you are under arrest," the MP said but it was clear from his expression that he hadn't been expecting this at all. Hawkeye would be far more sympathetic if he could get the creepy woman away from Trapper, who was now shaking violently.

"Get her out of Post-Op now," Hawkeye yelled. "And get me some help while you're at it."

Trapper's hand came up to grip Hawkeye's forearm in a vice. "Hawk, don't put me under." He was sweating and his forehead felt clammy under Hawkeye's hand.

"Trap, I'm going to have to redo the stitches and have a look at your arms." They were slick with blood and Hawkeye couldn't assess him properly. "I can't do it while you're awake."

"Give me a local, I'll be fine," Trapper said, his mouth setting into a familiar stubborn line. Hawkeye opened his mouth to argue but Trapper continued, "Hawk, the last time I went to sleep and woke up, it was to Baker trying to stab me again."

All objections Hawkeye had melted away at that. "Look, Trap. We'll try and do it while you're awake but if it's needed, you'll have to go under. But I'll make sure only if it's needed." Trapper still looked uncertain and Hawkeye gave his shoulder a squeeze, mindful of how Trapper was now one mess of lacerations. "Trust me."

And that seemed to be the end of that.


	11. Sidney

Sidney made his way slowly over to the Swamp. He liked visiting Hawkeye and Trapper but between visiting them for a poker game and visiting them because one of their nurses lost it and started murdering people left, right and centre, he knew which one he preferred. The two of them were in their tent, Trapper propped up on his bed with what looked like all the camp's pillows and Hawkeye in the chair next to him, his feet up on Trapper's bed. Trapper looked like he had been to Hell and back, his skin pasty white and dark circles under his eyes. Sidney made a mental note to talk to him before he left. Hawkeye wasn't looking much better but the smiles directed his way were genuine.

"Sidney! Can I get a drink?" Hawkeye made to move from his perch, however reluctantly but Sidney waved him down.

"Later." If he started drinking now, he would never stop. Instead he sat down on Hawkeye's bed and looked at the two of them. "I thought you would be in post-op."

Trapper and Hawkeye exchanged looks. "Last time I was a patient in Post-Op, Nurse Whacko tried to kill me. I prefer my own bed," Trapper said, more cheerfully than Sidney would have managed. Hawkeye rolled his eyes, although whether it was towards Trapper or Sidney was a mystery.

"He kept waking up every time someone even walked towards his bed," Hawkeye said in a stage-whisper to Sidney, loud enough for Trapper to hear before going back to his normal tone of voice. "Not really a restful sort of sleep. So he came back here, despite Margaret squawking about infection."

Trapper snorted. "Oh yeah, the Major is the one panicking over infection. And who has checked my wounds three times since we sat down?"

Hawkeye waved off this comment with practiced ease. His gaze sharpened on Sidney and he wondered what Hawkeye was seeing. The bent over posture, the exhausted look on his face or maybe it was the fact that he had a look in his eye that he had just experienced something which will change him. "So?" Hawkeye asked, ever so softly. "What's the verdict?"

"Georgia Baker is a murderer with not even the slightest hint of remorse." Maybe Sidney shouldn't be talking about this but he had to unburden, to get rid of the memory of those cool blue eyes looking at him. "And you both had a very lucky escape."

"Both?" Trapper asked. He shifted on the bed as if he wanted to get up and pace but found it too painful to even sit upright.

"If Baker had succeeded in her goal, she would have killed you, Trapper, and then moved onto Klinger and then onto the next patient until every person in that Post-Op was dead. And when I asked her how she was going to get away with it, she shrugged and said she probably wouldn't have after that so she would have gone tent to tent until someone stopped her."

"You're kidding," Hawkeye said flatly. Trapper was looking horrorstruck, much like how Sidney felt. "Why? How?"

"Baker said Winifred stole her fiance," Sidney said. "She didn't care about the man in question, that much was obvious, but she didn't like Winifred taking what was hers. She and Winifred got into an argument and then she stabbed her and kept on going. Said she liked the rush."

"The rush?" Trapper asked. Hawkeye looked sick.

"How did we miss this?" he muttered, but loud enough that Sidney heard.

"Killers like her get a rush of pleasure after killing which encourages them to keep on trying. Of course it's never as good as the first time but they kept on killing, hoping to get it. She was going to keep on killing until she was stopped and she was very unhappy about being stopped." Sidney worked with soldiers, killers mostly, ones who had wrestled with their conscience over their patriotism and even the ones who managed to justify bombing a civilian village out loud, and none of them had sent shivers down his spine like Georgia Baker's complete lack of feeling towards anyone she had killed, or even the ones left behind to grieve.

"What's going to happen to her? Where's she going?" Trapper asked. His frown was heavy and Sidney noticed Hawkeye reach out a hand as if to soothe and then pulled it back, likely because Trapper was far more likely to see it as coddling than anything else.

"She is being shipped back home where she is to stand trial. It's not a war crime, she committed murder in an American camp on American citizens and will be charged as such. I'll be heading back with her to testify in court." He had to make sure there was no way Baker's defense could be anything about the stress of war or anything like that. A written statement could be done but Sidney wanted to be there to head off any such questions.

"You'll make sure she's locked up?" Hawkeye asked, his voice serious and his blue eyes steady on Sidney's.

"If it's within my power," Sidney said, his words a promise even if they seemed like they were evading the question. There was a heavy silence in the tent and Sidney could see Hawkeye was going to brood over what could have been and what ifs. Thankfully Trapper saw it too.

"Don't worry about it, Hawk. She's in custody and after this everyone will know that she's a murderer. There's enough to worry about without adding her to our list." He knocked his knuckles against Hawkeye's leg and Sidney watched with interest as Hawkeye obviously relaxed when he did so. Something had changed between the two of them, something which had connected them for something better than finding common ground in the hell of war.

Sidney wasn't going to say anything but he watched Trapper and Hawkeye and felt a little easier after the day he had. People like Georgia Baker existed in the world but so did Hawkeye Pierce and Trapper John McIntyre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end result of me watching far too much Criminal Minds and M*A*S*H together. Hope everyone enjoyed it!


End file.
